The sun shines on the Long Mynd today, as if the valley is gilded in sparkling gold and the stream that runs down behind our home is molten silver, babbling excitedly as it rushes over the lichen-caked rocks. The wind has been decidedly blustery these past few days, but it's a crisp, cold wind that reddens the cheeks and compliments the sharp blue skies and sunlight. It is one of those days that adds a spring to the step, not only because of fine weather, but because my heart is gladdened that I have been able to visit with Lizzie.

With the Hawkstones' plot uncovered and Papa's influence with the judge ensuring Lizzie's prompt release from Shelton, she now recovers from her ordeal, and resides at the Darborough estate, under the kind and gentle care of Mr. Darborough's wife. Mr. Darborough himself, who was found unconscious and locked away in the cellar at Lutwyche, resides there too, but has insisted they should offer Lizzie some respite, mayhap because he considers them both to be victims of the Hawkstones' terrible plot.

Lizzie, while still terribly affected by her experiences, has some spark back in her eyes and some colour in her cheeks again, and it has warmed me greatly today to see her smile once again. She talks not of the future now – for it is too soon for her to think on her plans and ambitions – but of the beauty she finds in each day, of how fortunate she feels to see the sunshine through the windows of the Darborough's conservatory which looks out on their extensive and well-tended gardens. She talks of the stench of Mr. Darborough's pipe with some light derision, and how he complains every day that his wife refuses to let him at his favourite bottle of brandy. She talks of how much she enjoys Jenny's company and how the girl has gifted her with the most beautiful scarves to cover her head until her hair grows back.

'I might not grow it all back after all,' she said today, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that reminded me of the Lizzie I know. 'A woman with short hair! Can you imagine, Lily dear?'

'I can imagine a great many things for you, Elizabeth Jane Darby. And whether your hair is short or long, this world will be a much brighter place when you are ready to fly free from your cage again.'

'Oh Lily, do you think I can?' she had said.

'As sure as the wind that blows through the Mynd.'

On returning home, having done battle with that same wind which sought to bother my skirts and lift my hat from my head, I search the house for Papa and William. With no joy in seeking out my father, I finally find my brother tucking into the largest bowl of chocolate sponge cake with custard that I have ever seen.

'Heavens, William, that dessert is larger than Caer Caradoc,' I say, bemused, as I stand in the doorway watching him as he spills custard down yet another new vest, scowling as if I have interrupted some private ritual.

'Aggie said that on account of having experienced such a terrible ordeal, I should ensure I eat plenty to regain my strength.'

I raise a brow. 'Curious. I never knew that cake and custard had such strength-giving properties.'

William spoons another huge helping into his mouth.

'Energy. It will give me energy. That is what Aggie said.'

'Energy for what exactly?'

'Eating more dessert?' He shrugs, and grins, dabbing his mouth with the napkin. 'How is Lizzie? Papa said you were going to visit with her this morning?'

'Very well, actually. Where is Papa? I wanted to speak with him.'

William spots a spillage on his vest and rubs furiously at it with the napkin, frowning. 'Oh... yes... he went to see your Sin-Eater.'

'Daniel?'

'Unless you have another Sin-Eater hidden away somewhere. Yes, Daniel Carver. Papa set off some time ago, mumbling something about how it's not proper and he has to do something about it. Or words to that effect.'

'What?' I squeak, holding the doorway to steady myself. 'Why on Earth would he say something like that?'

'Not certain. But on my estimation, it probably has something to do with his meeting with him yesterday.'

This conversation is worsening by the second.

'Meeting? What meeting? No one told me there was to be a meeting? What was it concerning?'

'No doubt because you were not invited.' William smirks, clearly quite amused with how flustered I must look. 'I have no idea what the meeting was about, I didn't hear anything.'

'What do you mean you did not hear? Do you mean that you weren't eavesdropping? You always eavesdrop. Why weren't you eavesdropping?'

William shoots me a strange look. 'This is possibly the first time you scolded me for not eavesdropping. Are you okay? You look awfully pale all of a sudden.'

I grit my teeth and fight the urge to dump the dessert bowl on my dear brother's head, not that it would make much mess as he appears to have cleaned it of custard in the way a dog would clean up its food bowl.

'William, Heavens, will you just tell me what happened?'

'I wish I could,' he says, looking completely unbothered by my concern. 'All I know is that Daniel was here talking to Papa, and it looked dreadfully serious. Lots of scowling and such like. Then Daniel stormed off and Papa went into his study and slammed the door.'

'And you are only thinking to inform me of this now?'

William smiles lazily and leans back in his chair and rubbing at his stomach as if he is fit to burst. 'You only just asked.'

I clench my fists. 'William Richard Elmes, if you were not my brother, I would have Silas tie you to the trap and drag you about the field.'

'Harsh... even for you, dear sister,' he replies, pretending to appear hurt. 'Why are you even worried anyway? Papa likes Daniel. Even if he is the Sin-Eater.'

'Why am I worried?' I stare at him, wildly. 'You tell me that Daniel was here yesterday, and he and Papa clearly had a disagreement and then you say that Papa has gone to visit him this morning, muttering about how it's not proper and he has to do something about it. Do you not see? Whether Papa likes him or not is irrelevant. He thinks that my... friendship with Daniel is not proper and he has no doubt gone to tell him just that! What if he asks him to leave?'

'After everything he did to help us?' William looks perplexed, but I see the note of alarm in his face. It is not just Papa who likes Daniel. My dear younger brother has done nothing but talk of Daniel ever since the night in the Lutwyche Folly. 'Do you really think Papa would?'

'I am not certain, but I am not going to let him if that is what he intends. No matter what it must take.'

I reach the entrance to Rectory Wood with such haste that I have lost my hat along the way, too intent to get to Daniel's cottage to try and save it before it was swept away by the wind.

As I near the stile, I spy little Stella Turner clambering over, an empty basket hooked over her arm.

'Stella!' I call out, hoping to stop the girl before she can make her way back to town. 'Stella!'

The little girl stops and turns to face the direction of my voice. As before, she is still, listening intently as she waits for me to run the short pathway to where she stands.

'Miss Elmes?' she says. 'Yer wheezing like a carthorse that's carrying a load ten times its size. What ails yer?'

I swallow, desperate to catch my breath. 'Running,' I manage to say. 'I am in a bit of a rush.'

Stella wrinkles her nose. 'Oh, well, don't let me stop yer. I best be getting back anyway or me Pa will send Edmund out looking for me and that great lummox don't know his backside from his frontside ever since he found out what happened to Lizzie Darby.'

'Actually, I am awfully glad I caught you,' I say. 'That basket... am I right in thinking you have been to see Mr. Carver?'

Stella grins then, a sly smile as if she is party to a big secret that amuses her. 'Yer sweet on him, ain't yer, Miss?'

My cheeks warm instantly. 'That is not... that is, at least... I am not discussing it, thank you very much.'

The girl shakes her head. 'Suit yerself. I won't keep yer. I'm sure yer want to say yer goodbyes.'

My heart stammers. 'Goodbye? Is he leaving? Where is he going?'

'Miss, I deliver his food. Where he goes ain't my business. All I know is that he were packing up some o' his things when I left.' She sniffs and cuffs at her nose with her sleeve. 'Wouldn't blame him none, mind. Not after the way all yer fancy folk treat him. Anyways, I don't have time for this chit-chat. Good day, Miss Elmes.'

I do not stand and watch Stella leave today, for I am hitching up my skirts and over the stile before I have wished her farewell. I follow the scarlet ribbon along the pathway to the Sin-Eater's cottage, with barely any time to ponder how different the woods feel this time, how much calmer they seem, even if my heart is not calm one little bit.

My world plummets as I reach the end of the path and spy the cottage up ahead. Outside, I can see some crates stacked outside and the remains of a still-smouldering bonfire, as if he has burnt the things he wished not to take with him.

'No,' I cry and increase my pace, desperately trying to not trip over my skirts as I run.

Flinging open the front door, I burst into the house, frantically calling his name.

Steam rushes past me through the open door and the heat instantly warms my face and for a moment, it seems like the first time again – the first time I set foot inside this place, the first time I set eyes upon him inside his home. The fire crackles and spits in the hearth, keeping the water warm that sits in the large copper tub directly in front of the fireplace.

The only difference this time – aside from the missing clock that I smashed open on my last visit – is that Daniel is nowhere to be seen, but I hear a crash from upstairs and someone uttering a curse that would usually make me blush. Footsteps follow, and I wait expectantly, twisting my skirts up in my bunched fists, as Daniel appears in the narrow stairwell, his face sporting a scowl and wearing absolutely nothing from the waist upwards.

My eyes widen, as his narrow, his mouth curling up ever so slightly at the edges when he sees my astonishment. My attempts to avert my gaze fail when I realise I am looking down at his bare feet and the loosened front of his breeches, where my startled eyes linger far longer than is appropriate.

Daniel's smile broadens.

'Miss Elmes, do you always make an entrance such as this? Bursting into a man's home uninvited and bringing the storm inside with you?'

I swallow and instantly wish that my mouth had not suddenly become quite so dry. 'There is no storm today, Mr. Carver. A violent breeze, but no storm.'

He cocks his head to one side. 'I wasn't discussing the weather.'

'Nor was I,' I retort, meeting his challenging stare with my own.

He drops down from the last step, reaching up to his shoulder and casually massaging away at the muscle there, as if something pains him. 'So, for what reason does the violent breeze blow into my home today?' He makes a pretence of looking out the window, scanning the woodland. 'I see no dead arisen. No monsters lurking in the woods.' He looks back at me. 'And yet here you are, looking mightily aggrieved if you don't mind me saying. Your forehead is crinkling in the most alarming way.'

'It is certainly not!' I touch my head, rubbing over it with my fingertips and scowling even more when he begins to chuckle. 'Would you mind telling me what all that is outside?'

He glances out the window again, rubbing at the glass where it has misted. 'Let me see... trees. The sky. Oh, look, a dove, if I'm not mistaken.'

'You know full well that I am not referring to the blasted scenery!'

Daniel raises a brow. 'Such language coming from that mouth.' He takes a step towards me, his gaze weighty. 'I think I might like to hear you say that again.'

My heart flutters, the heat suddenly feeling too much. I shake my head. 'Stop this! This isn't nearly as amusing as you think it to be. I want you to explain just why your possessions are crated outside and what my father has said to you, because whatever it is, whatever he said, I think you should ignore him.'

Daniel frowns. 'I should... ignore what he said? Everything?'

'Yes. Of course. Ignore him,' I say, exasperated with him now. I move closer, taking his hand in mine, a move which makes him part his lips in surprise. 'Oh, Daniel, I know Papa can be stuck in his ways, but he does not mean to be, he has a good heart, really he does. And I know how the townsfolk have treated you, but if you run away now, they have won, have they not? Whether they care for it or not, this town owes you a great debt and even though it may take some time, if you stay, then I will stand by your side and tell them every day that you have just as much right to be here, as they do. In fact, I dare say, you have more right than they, because without you, this town and these people would have been doomed.'

Daniel snags his bottom lip with his teeth, chewing on the fleshiest part as he studies me carefully. He brushes his thumb – once, twice – over my palm, before pulling out of my grasp and walking to the bathtub, testing the temperature of the water with his fingertips.

'I was not alone that night in the Folly. If the town owes me a debt, then the one they owe you is far greater. You are far too gracious, Miss Elmes,' he says, his voice gruff, but he does not look at me.

'Gracious? That sounds far too elegant. I thought I was a violent breeze.'

'Aye.' He nods. 'But it's the kind of violence I could get used to, given the opportunity.'

'Then, stay... please.'

He gives me a side-long glance and again, I am captivated by his stare and the way his body looks, as the steam rises around him. 'Careful, Miss Elmes. A man could get used to hearing you say that word.'

'Then I will say it again. Please. Please do not leave.'

He sighs then as he looks into the rippling water in the tub. 'Gracious you are. And quick to assume, it seems.'

'Excuse me?' I say.

'I am leaving,' he says, and it is as if the air has been sucked out of my chest. Daniel looks around the room. 'I am leaving this house, Miss Elmes. It has been a strange kind of home.' He trails his fingers along the shelf, finding the inkwell and turning it slowly. 'When I was a boy, I dreamt every day of leaving this place. Of going somewhere. Anywhere, as long as it took me far from the force of my uncle's boot. He might have vowed to protect me from dark forces, but there's no doubt every day spent with me was a torture for him.'

'That was not your fault.'

'Nay.' He smiles, but it fades quickly. 'Nay, it was not, but to look upon me was like looking upon the man who ruined my mother. And looking upon me, was the same as looking in the mirror and seeing himself, for my uncle had sworn to protect his sister too and I was the evidence of his failure. At times, this place felt like purgatory and every day I wondered when I would be free of it. But when Joseph passed and this place became mine, it also became my sanctuary. A place where I did not have to hang my head to hide my shame.'

My chest hurts for him. A stretching, bone-splitting ache that judders my heart.

'Is it strange to wish to be free of a place, but to also yearn to stay?' he asks.

'No,' I reply softly, barely more than a whisper for my throat is tightening and I fear I will not be able to speak much more. 'Not at all. But if a place contains more hurt, than comfort, then you are right to leave it. You deserve to be happy.'

'Do I?' he says, with a sniff, brushing his curls back from his face. 'I wonder. Strange that your father seems to think so too, which is why he has offered me Hollybush Cottage. It seems that if I am to be respectable now, then I must live in a respectable abode.'

I blink, desperately trying to process his words.

'Hollybush Cottage? My father has asked you to move to Hollybush Cottage?'

Daniel shrugs. 'Aye. He asked to speak with me yesterday and was most insistent that I accept his offer. I refused. I can see where you get your temper from. His brow crinkles in exactly the same as yours when aggrieved.'

'I am not sure I understand. You refused my father's offer?'

'Pride might be a sin, Lillian, but I am not so without pride that I would accept such charity. I have a home. I am not about to just let your father gift me a place like Hollybush Cottage for no good reason.' He sighs again, rubbing at the back of his neck. 'So yes, I refused, and he came to see me again just this morning and said after everything that has happened, it was not right that I continue to be isolated from the rest of the town. It is not proper apparently. And seeing as I refused his charity, he asked me what he could suggest that would persuade me to reconsider. Lily, you have to understand, a man should earn what he has in life, for what good are these hands if they don't toil? What good am I, if I let myself go soft in the belly and accept gifts that I have not earned? That is not who I am nor is it who I would want to be.'

He smiles then, a strange sort of smile tinged with admiration in his eyes. 'But it seems, Admiral Richard Elmes is as stubborn as his daughter, so I have accepted his offer, on the condition that I earn it. I am to be the manager of the Elmes estate.'

'Estate manager? Oh, Daniel, can this be true?' I can scarce believe it. I can scarce believe I can hope for such a thing.

'Aye, it appears so. Me, a manager of a whole estate.'

'And what of your other occupation?' I say. 'What of the Sin-Eater?'

Daniel turns to face me. 'I am always the Sin-Eater, Lillian. It is in my blood. For as long as the town is still in need of my services, I shall continue to help those on their journey, although mayhap I can do so without the need to hang my head quite so low.'

I know not what to say. After everything that has happened, after the terrifying thought that he would leave me after all, that I would never see him again nor feel the press of his mouth against mine, my fears, it seems, are unfounded and I am dazed by the wonder of it all. I am dazed by him, by this man who never ceases to surprise me, who never ceases to take my breath from my body by the mere sight of him.

'If that is all, Miss Elmes...?' he says and I blink again, the haze clearing when I see he is grinning, a Devil's grin, mischievous and dark.

'Oh, I apologise, Mr. Carver,' I say, clearing my throat and gathering myself together. 'Am I keeping you from something more important?'

'Well, now that you mention it,' he replies, reaching down to loosen the ties on the fall front of his breeches, looking intently at me as he does so. 'The day draws on and I wish to take my bath while the water is still warm.'

A challenge. Always a challenge with this man.

'Then by all means, do not let me keep you a moment longer,' I say, not moving an inch.

'Fair enough.' He shrugs, pushing his breeches down his hips just a short way, but enough to make my heart thud in my chest and my hands tremble with want. 'You could join me if you wish?'

I raise a brow, feigning nonchalance. 'I cannot possibly, as you well know.'

'It didn't stop you that day at the lake.'

'That was different.'

'Was it?'

'Yes. That was a swim and while it is not completely appropriate for a lady to swim in her undergarments, one does not bathein them. It would be highly scandalous for an unmarried young lady such as myself to undress fully and bathe in front of man, let alone share a tub.'

'Oh,' he replies, seeming to ponder on that, before looking at me in such a way that I think my heart will give up completely, for it surely cannot take much more. 'Well in that case, I suppose I should marry you then.'

I freeze. 'What did you say?'

'I said, I should marry you. That is, if you would have me, which you probably should. I own two cottages and have two occupations. I'm quite the suitable match now, it seems.'

I take a breath, unsure that my lungs will allow it – and then another, one that catches in my throat.

'You have always been a suitable match, Mr. Carver,' I whisper. 'Always.'

'Good then,' he says, reaching out a hand and beckoning me to take it, which I do, and he pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around my waist. His skin is damp and warm from the steam, and I run my fingertips up his spine to his neck, feeling him shiver under my touch.

He leans down and traces his lips over mine. Soft. Light. Like moth wings brushing against my mouth, my face, my neck.

'Now, Miss Elmes, are you going to undress, or do I have to drag you into this bath with me fully-clothed?' he murmurs against my ear.

'Mr. Carver,' I sigh, my mouth against his throat, as he begins to unfasten my collar, those fingers feeling rough but undeniably beautiful as they stroke at my back. 'Tell me, is it terribly wicked to feel so much pleasure from the Sin-Eater's Curse?'

I slip my thumbs into the waistband of his breeches, pushing them down his hips and hearing him gasp as I do. Capturing my mouth again, he kisses me hard, before pulling back to look into my eyes.

Those eyes I was told never to look into.

The Sin-Eater smiles.

'More wicked than you could possibly imagine.'